Dib Believes in Ghosts
by Dibsthe1
Summary: Long before Zim's arrival, Dib finds a book on how to conduct a seance and tries to find someone else who is interested.
1. Afternoon

Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim either, or any of these characters. All bow to the mighty Jhonen Vasquez!

Any and all constructive criticism gratefully accepted.

If you are offended by the complete, utter, and total absence of romance, slash, etc. then DO NOT read this! You have been warned.

I have researched this subject, but intentionally left out some important stuff. Bottom line:

DO NOT TRY THIS YOURSELVES!!!

Dib Believes in Ghosts

Chapter One: Afternoon

It was a beautiful Indian summer morning in early October, and the kids in Dib's classroom were finding it harder and harder to listen to Ms. Bitters's dreary lesson about how doomed they all were. The sunshine streaming in through the windows made the classroom even more dismal. The kids's wistful stares out the window grew longer and longer, until finally Ms. Bitters set down her pointer and said she had a special surprise for them.

"Class, I was going to keep this for later on, but as it's such a nice day outside right now, you may all go..." announced Ms. Bitters, with a dramatic pause for maximum effect, "to the LIBRARY!"

Oh boy, the library! Dib thought automatically. The other kids just looked disappointed, but only for a moment. A trip to the library at least offered a few minutes' escape from this wretched class. They soon found they had to wait a few minutes more in the hall as Ms. Bitters and the librarian argued until someone finally surrendered.

The class filed in and split up, with the girls drifting in one general direction, the boys in another. After looking around briefly to get his bearings, Dib headed straight for the bookcase bearing the sign "Parapsychology" a word none of his classmates could even pronounce. To his dismay, most of the books in this tiny section he'd already read somewhere else.

Dib nevertheless continued his search right to the back of the shelf. Suddenly he yelped with excitement, grabbed a slim volume, and stared at the title in delighted wonderment. "How to Conduct a Seance." Dib had wondered if a How To book on this subject even existed!

This was the only book he'd want, which was just as well, because Ms. Bitters was sticking to all three of her conditions: because this was Grade One, the librarian was to check out only one book per pupil, to give them only one minute to choose it, and to stiffly fine any kid who didn't bring his or her book back after only one day.

After lunch, as the other children ran and played around the skoolyard, Dib sat alone under a tree, reading aloud as usual, and as usual, nobody came by. Dib didn't mind; he was totally absorbed by the world of the book. Despite his feverish intensity, he was taking careful note of all the instructions on how to encourage a ghost to approach close enough for an actual conversation. Dib could hardly wait to try it.

When the buzzer ordered the children to file back inside the skool, Dib placed a leaf between the pages to serve as a bookmark and reluctantly stood up to join the line.

"Hey, what's that you got?" yelled a bigger kid. "You don't have to read out here!"

Dib only grinned; if he said anything he would surely burst. Everyone who sat in on his seance would find this a day to remember! Dib would introduce a ghost to all his classmates! Finally he could prove he wasn't crazy, that ghosts actually do exist, and when the kids got to meet their their first real live, uh, real dead ghost, well! They'd all want to be his friends then! Okay, maybe the whole class wouldn't be interested, but if even half the kids took him up on his offer, that should still be plenty.

Back in the classroom the kids continued to chatter as Ms. Bitters readied the lesson plan for the afternoon, "How to Scare the Wits out of Kids and Bore them Senseless at the Same Time."

Giddy with anticipation, Dib took a deep breath and stood on his chair, facing the largest knot of his classmates. He cleared his throat and blurted, "Hey, everybody!" A couple of disinterested faces turned briefly in his direction, then turned right back to their conversations.

"Hey, everybody!" Dib said again, louder this time and raising his seance book. He got no response at all now.

"Everybody!" Dib yelled, waving his arms. A couple of faces turned and this time continued to watch him suspiciously. Oh well, it was a start.

"Wanna to do something really fun after skool?" Dib opened his invitation.

"Watch me beat you up again?" suggested Torque Smackey, to some laughter.

"No," Dib continued anyway. "We can have a seance!"

"A say-aunts? What's a say-aunts?" asked Keef.

With that one question, Dib was confident he had the entire classroom in the palm of his hand. "It's a way to summon spirits! All we need to do is find a round table and light a candle, and sit around the table holding hands and - "

"Ewww, Dib wants to play Spin the Bottle!" Sara interrupted snidely.

"No, that's not it either," sighed Dib, just a little dismayed. Couldn't people ever, just once, think about something else besides hitting and kissing? "... and we sit around the table chanting and holding hands until- "

"I knew it!" Sara sniffed. "AS! IF!!"

Dib tried one last appeal. He opened his book to its most spectacular illustration; beaming, he held it up so the entire class could see. It was a two page spread showing a huge glowing ghost looming over a shadowy table surrounded by astonished people in Victorian clothes holding hands around a skull-shaped candle. If this didn't win them over, nothing would!

"Look what that crazy Dib's doing now!" snarled someone. Immediately Dib had the full attention of every kid in the room.

Dib ran with the rising interest. "Look, see this?" Still holding up the open book, he turned from side to side so everyone could see the picture, a better advertisement for his project than he could have wished for. "Want to meet a ghost? This book tells us how! It's real easy, all we do is - " Dib got no further before every last one of his classmates raced over to stand before his chair. I knew it! was Dib's first joyous reaction. This got them! It's bound to work with this many, I'll get to see my -

But it wasn't quite the response Dib thought it was. First one, then all the children were chanting in a derisive sing-song, "Dib believes in gho - osts! Dib believes in gho - osts! Dib believes in-" through mounting waves of hysterical laughter.

Stung, Dib slowly lowered his book. As the chant continued, rulers, sharpeners, and paper balls began pelting him. Dib hastily looked around for space to step down from the chair but the children hemmed him in all the tighter. They began taking turns yanking on his trench coat, rocking him from side to side. "Dib believes in gho - osts! Dib believes in gho - osts!"

"Quit it!" Dib gasped, throwing out his arms to maintain his balance. As he did so, his grip on the book slipped and in the next second someone swatted it away. Shrieking with laugher by now, the children began tossing Dib's book back and forth just out of his reach. "Stop! Give it back!"

Ms. Bitters finally noticed the commotion. "Dib! Stop teasing the other children!" She slid like a viper through the throng and snatched up the seance book where it had fallen. "If you can't use your book any better than that, it is DOOMED!" She dumped Dib's precious book into a desk drawer which she locked with obvious relish, ignoring Dib's pleas that he hadn't wanted that to happen and hadn't even finished reading the book.

The children dispersed, their laughter dissolving into triumphant, self-satisfied chuckles. "Dib's crazy anyway," was the general consensus. As Dib sank miserably to the seat of his chair, one final wad of paper struck the back of his head. "It's hard to miss a head that big!" came the inevitable jibe, followed by a final burst of guffaws.

Swallowing hard, Dib rummaged in his backpack for the following class's textbook. How could anybody not be interested in something so - well, so interesting? Dib clenched his teeth, his mouth shaking, as he sat upright in his seat, bracing for more.

Openly mocking glances caught Dib's eye as the afternoon wore on. It didn't help when Ms. Bitters chose him to stand in front of the class to deliver a lengthy reading. From time to time a sly whisper of "BOO!" would provoke an outburst of frenzied giggling, at which Ms. Bitters would yell at Dib for making a serious piece sound funny. Tapping her hand with the pointer, she ordered him to read it again... and again... until he decided to stop clowning around.

Dib struggled to force the words past the growing lump in his throat, and lifted the book to hide his face; behind his glasses, the tears were steadily building. Dib didn't dare blink too hard lest they spill over. He couldn't dare risk having that happen, not after what happened last time.

Once safely home, Dib headed straight for his room, not even heading to the kitchen first for a snack or a microwave dinner the way he usually did right after skool. No sooner had his own door clicked shut behind him than Dib found himself crying, crying uncontrollably, crying away the frustration and the rage of this horrible, endless afternoon.

Finally hunger drove Dib to the kitchen, where he found something appetizing in the freezer. As the microwave timer counted down, he considered his options. Dib clearly recalled the book's recommendation that no fewer than three people attend a seance; a multiple of three had been the ideal. Although the pool of potential participants had been reduced drastically, he could still suggest it to his father and Gaz, who with himself would make the required trio.

The book had also advised against holding seances at your own house in case the ghost decided not to leave... as if that would be a bad thing, thought Dib.


	2. Suppertime

All disclaimers still apply, namely, don't expect any romance, DO NOT try this yourselves, and most important of all, I don't own Invader Zim or any of these characters. Jhonen Vasquez does.

Chapter Two: Suppertime

Dib threw out the microwave dinner package and pondered how to approach his family. They had never been particularly receptive to his forays into the paranormal, but surely this would be different. On the other hand, he'd held a similar optimism a few hours earlier too.

Scattered sounds rose from his father's lab in the basement; Gaz was hard at work zapping vampire piggies in the living room as usual. Though reluctant to disturb either of them, Dib quickly decided to approach his father first. However, the book had warned in no uncertain terms against having skeptics present, so Dib knew he'd have to change his father's mind somehow, and quickly.

Dib walked as far as the doorway and stood there for a while, watching the shadows shimmering around the room. He wondered why his father needed an acetylene torch to make toast in a lab instead of a toaster in the kitchen, the way Dib himself did. Finally Dib walked up to his father and waited until the Professor reached a pause before speaking up.

"Dad, would you like - "

"Shh - shh - shh- shh - shh! Not now, son, I'm making... toast!"

"Can I help?"

"Yes yes in a minute. Just don't bother me now!"

"Yes, this can wait until you're done, Dad, but I think you'll really want to see what I'm - "

"You're right son! The kids who watch my show will really want to see this!"

Dib took a deep breath. "Dad, just please listen to me. This is important - "

"Oh, yes it is son! It certainly is. So watch and learn about the wonders of science!"

"I found out how to have a seance! It'll work and - "

"How many times have I told you not to use my lab for your paranormal junk!" Professor Membrane turned aside to add a fresh substance to his formula and when he faced Dib again, seemed to notice him for the first time. "Yes, do you want something, son?"

"I found complete instructions, so it'll be just like one of your experiments!" Dib was pleased with the way he thought of phrasing it. "It WILL work, Dad! And we don't even have to hold it in the lab. In fact it would be much better if we didn't."

"Instructions? Instructions for what? What'll work?" The Professor sounded genuinely puzzled.

"My seance, Dad. I'm having a seance, and - "

The Professor sighed. "Very well, if you must. Just don't stay out too late, it's a skool night. Just

remember, the real science is here!" He waved the torch briefly and returned to his procedure.

Dib looked pleadingly toward his father's face, hidden now by a welder's mask on top of the thick glasses and lab coat. He tried again, speaking slowly to minimize the chance of yet another misunderstanding.

"No, Dad, please. I do not have to leave the house to do this. This is something we can all do here together, as a family, you, me, and Gaz. I promise, Dad, this will be..." Dib swallowed hard. "...really, really special." He took a step closer. "Please, Dad, I need your help. It works better with more-"

"Don't get too close, son, I need enough room to prepare the materials for my show this week!"

Dib stepped back to oblige his father. "And when you're done, then we can have the seance? "

"Science, not seance!" said the Professor cheerfully. "One of these days you'll realize that seances are nothing more than hoaxes and frauds."

The lump in Dib's throat was coming back. Torn between leaving now so he wouldn't cry in front of his father and making one more attempt, Dib forced himself to ask, "But Dad, wouldn't you like to see - "

"Yes, I would, son, but I'll have to wait before you follow in my footsteps. It's a good thing I'm such a patient man!"

The basement swam before Dib's eyes. Quickly, without another word he turned around before raising a hand to wipe them clear so he wouldn't fall running back up the stairs. Then he fled.

Professor Membrane shook his head. "My poor, insane son." Then he continued his preparations.

Dib composed himself and considered what to do next. Only one possibility now remained, his sister Gaz, never especially approachable at the best of times. As usual, she was settled in the living room, seeking to rise to yet another level of "Bloodsucking Vampire Piggies of Doom."

Dib seemed to recall the book saying children should never attend a seance, and Dib spent some time deciding whether this was an actual prohibition or just a general suggestion. His desire soon won out, and Dib slowly sat on the other sofa, diagonally from Gaz, knowing he could be in for a long wait. No one at the arcade could make a quarter last longer than Gaz could.

Dib worked his way through the TV guide, all the magazines he could find in the room, as well as the previous week's newspapers, fighting back urges to read out loud, comment on articles, or most suicidal of all, call Gaz's attention to anything especially interesting. With the nearest reading materials exhausted, Dib sat back to listen to the steady clacking of buttons, zapping sounds, and shrieks of the creatures onscreen. What seemed like hours passed and Dib suddenly realized he was hungry again. He went to the kitchen and came back with two warmed up toaster pastries, one of which he cautiously placed on the coffee table within Gaz's reach before eating the other. He cleared his throat and burped.

"Shut. Up. Weirdo." Gaz ground out, her voice sounding like a rusty, unoiled hinge on the gate of Hell. "Don't. Make. Me. Lose. My. Game."

Dib thought of assuring her that he wouldn't, but thought better of it. He shifted to find a more comfortable position on the sofa and prepared to wait a while longer. Gaz's breaks from her gaming sessions were rare and fleeting. As Dib began listening to the flow of the action once again, it happened.

Gaz had finally reached the limit of expertise for any kindergartener, no matter how skilled. Two targets appeared on opposite sides of the screen at the same instant. Gaz destroyed one, and just as she'd turned her cursor around and reached for the button to fire again, was herself eliminated. Her face glowed red in the reflected glare of the "Game Over" message.

The room was now ominously silent except for Gaz's hissing as she seethed with fury. Too late, Dib realized this wasn't the best time to ask, and far from the best place to be right now, either. But he didn't dare move, didn't dare even breathe.

Gaz's head slowly turned to face Dib... the long way around, her eyes glowing coals of rage. Nevertheless, she spoke as slowly and as evenly as if nothing had happened, and whenever she did this, Dib's blood ran cold.

"You did it this time."

Dib could only stare in bewilderment. What? How? He hadn't DONE anything!

Gaz's voice picked up speed and intensity. "You're still doing it."

Dib began to sweat as Gaz began sliding off her chair.

"You're STARING at me."

Dib groped for words.

Gaz's voice grew until the last word was a shriek of utterly unbridled rage. "You STARED... at me... until... I... _LOST... MYY... GAAAAAAAME!!!_ " The house shook.

Dib planted a foot to make a run for it just as Gaz launched herself from the sofa but he was half a second too late. Gaz caught the edge of his trench coat, whipped him backwards, and unleashed a furious hail of kicks and punches. Strictly forbidden to hit girls, Dib backed away until he bumped into the chair, lost his balance and fell across the seat. Curling her fingers into claws, Gaz swept Dib's glasses to the floor, reaching next for his eyes. "No! Not my eyes!" gasped Dib, automatically grabbing her wrists to blunt her frenzied attack.

Outraged even more, if that could be possible, Gaz howled, "HOW... DARE... _YOU_... TOUCH... _ME_!!" and jerked her knee savagely. Dib jackknifed. Breathless and paralyzed with agony, he could offer no resistance as Gaz grabbed him by his hair spike and slammed his face into the corner of the coffee table. Again... and again... and again... and...

Some time after Gaz felt like returning to her Game Slave, and as soon as Dib found his glasses and could finally walk again, he staggered to the fridge for some ice cubes which he wrapped in cup towels. He sank onto a chair at the kitchen table and held the ice packs to the places that hurt the most, by now too just plain dejected to cry.

When the last ice cube had finally melted, he sat up straight and sighed deeply. Could a seance work with just one person? Dib seemed to remember the book cautioning strongly against holding a seance by yourself, as you could very well go insane. Well, no problem there, Dib thought bitterly. Everyone already says I'm insane. What do I have to lose? Not my mind, that's for sure.

The main question was, would the procedure still work? There was only one way to find out.


	3. Night

I don't especially enjoy waiting to read all chapters of a story, so here is my first contribution in its entirety.

All disclaimers still apply, namely, don't expect any romance, DO NOT try this yourselves, and most important of all, I don't own Invader Zim or any of these characters. Jhonen Vasquez does.

Back to the story:

Chapter Three: Night

Dib studied the list he'd written, trying to recall the book's instructions in as accurate detail as he could. White table cloth, check. Candles, again in multiples of three... Dib had stopped collecting when he got to nine. So far so good. Dib checked the list against what he could recall, then double checked his materials against the written list once more. Though thankful that he'd started reading the book immediately, Dib fervently hoped he was still recalling everything correctly.

Dib once more caught himself thinking that it was all the fault of those kids and Ms. Bitters (all of whom he now hated more than ever) that he didn't have the book to refer to. This time, however, he fought back such angry thoughts, as he seemed to remember reading that bad feelings could easily attract bad ghosts. Hadn't the book also said something about music? In case it did, Dib turned on the radio and tuned it to a station playing something slow and sleepy; to his relief, the music did indeed provide a welcome distraction from his brooding.

He seemed to recall counting four items which the book listed as absolutely essential, but he had accumulated only three: table, tablecloth, candles, and... ? Suddenly he remembered; ah, incense! The only trouble now was that Dib didn't know where to get incense, whatever that was. However, one of the scents the book had suggested using was cinnamon, and the cupboard still had a whole bottle of that.

Having come this far, Dib was suddenly unsure about proceeding alone. Was it really dangerous, or simply less effective? To get around this as best he could, he hunted around the house until he found two framed mirrors which he stood on the table in front of him.

Next Dib went looking for matches or a lighter, but could only come up with one of his father's old Bunsen burner lighters. He managed to squeeze a spark from it long enough to ignite a piece of paper, which he held to the wick of each candle until the flame caught.

Dib finally took his seat carefully, and angled the mirrors until the reflections joined to form an unbroken image, then placed his palms on the mirrors' surfaces.

While doing as many of the protection rituals as he could recall, Dib realized that until now he'd completely forgotten that all electric lights had to be turned off, so he released his hold on the mirrors long enough to do so. The room, now softly lit by the gently undulating candles, looked a lot like it had at his last birthday party.

Dib took his seat once more and resolved to concentrate as much as possible. Closing his eyes and taking his first deep breath, Dib began to mentally prepare for the task ahead. He sat at the table calmly, relaxing... relaxing very hard...so hard, in fact, that he got tired of all that relaxing and shrugged his shoulders to work out the soreness.

Dib waited and waited, breathing deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to think of nothing at all, and paying attention to all the sounds and smells around him, as the book had said to do. It seemed like a long time later that he suddenly remembered he had to chant too! Hastily he began repeating the request to the spirits that the book had suggested... well, as closely as he could remember.

You had to believe. That was important. No skeptics. I want to believe, like it said on his aliens poster. Dib did his best to send open, welcoming vibes to any ghosts who might be hovering at that very moment, deciding whether to make an appearance, I believe, yes I do believe...

"Dib believes in gho - osts... Dib believes in gho - osts..." The shrill, mocking echoes from that afternoon emerged unwanted from the depths of his mind. Vigorously, Dib shook his head to dislodge the unwelcome taunts. "Dib believes in - " NO! No distractions.

Nothing was happening, nothing at all. Maybe he shouldn't have started without the book. Had he been too hasty? Should he have waited, found out what incense actually was and used the genuine article? Should he have called one of those phone psychics to help him? Charlatans or not, they were better than nothing. If they didn't actually believe, at least they claimed they did, and that was -

Dib suddenly realized that he had stopped chanting and immediately resumed, but did this mean he had lost all that previous time and was now starting all over again? Doggedly, Dib repeated the chant over and over, over and over until the words lost all meaning for him and became mere sounds.

Even though Dib had no idea how long the process usually took, he had thought he would surely have some results after this much waiting. If he opened his eyes to check the clock, did that mean he would have to start over yet again? Was it dangerous to sit past a certain time limit, or just no more effective? If the book had indeed given specific information in this area, it was past the point where he'd been forced to stop reading.

Between Dib's arms and so close to his face, the candles, all nine of them, by now felt uncomfortably hot. Dib wished he'd thought of taking off his trench coat earlier but if he took a hand off a mirror, that would break the circle and stop the procedure... and Dib had gone through far, far too much today to start over again now!

Sweat rolled down Dib's face, dripping steadily from his nose and chin, but he didn't dare let go of the mirrors to wipe it away. In spite of the heat Dib maintained his concentration this time, and as best he could, his pose. Most of Dib's T-shirt was by now saturated, his trench coat sleeves were dark and glistening with sweat, and his arms in particular felt like they were burning, but he remained perfectly still, his breathing even and his mind centered on his goal. Presently Dib's mouth fell open and he tasted salt thick and heavy on his lips; he really was becoming unbearably hot. How long could he remain like this? Would something happen before he fainted?

Dib couldn't begin to guess how much time had passed; was it midnight? Almost morning? Had it been five hours? Or only five minutes? He didn't know... although Dib was now dimly aware of a distant, bodiless sensation similar to that which he remembered from volunteering for a hypnotist act at the fair the previous summer. Did this mean it was working? Or was he just dehydrated? He'd never done this before so how could he know?

A sudden chill gripped him and while it was most welcome against the merciless heat, Dib flicked an eye open briefly to be sure none of the candles had gone out. No, they were all still lit... and the smoke strings rising from them had thickened. Dib froze even more; did that mean it was working? That something was actually happening?

What was he to do next? Anything? Did he need to close his eyes again? Would chanting louder make it happen faster? Or would it be better if he remained silent now? Keeping his eye open a crack, Dib stared at the line of smoke to see if it would continue to thicken while his eyes were open; if it thinned out he could always shut his eyes again.

Dib barely breathed; the noises in the living room seemed to be coming from miles away even as the kitchen clock pounded deafeningly. The smoke would waver, then steady, then waver again, steady again. Dib nearly jumped... at one point the smoke unmistakably bunched in the middle before falling back to its previous dimensions! Torn between closing his eyes to assist the process or staring with all his attention, Dib soon found that the wider he opened his eyes, the vaguer the figure became, so he tried half closing them.

With his eyelashes refracting the light, the smoke loomed even more well-defined, building by the moment. Dib's eyes flared wide in astonishment for just a moment; he was awestruck at actually witnessing this while awake and not dreaming. Goose bumps rippled across his body.

Dib watched breathlessly as the smoke continued to thicken and began to billow, building outward from the centre. First Dib thought he saw feet hanging below the cloud; then he was unsure what he had just seen. The smoke was beginning to resemble a swaying shroud; long wispy trails of smoke were separating into finger - like tendrils at the ends. Dib continued to watch in dumbfounded fascination as a being within the smoke seemed to slowly condense from the feet up. The body continued to form; yes, it was female! Dib started and caught himself preparing to stand up, then forced himself to settle back down to stare intently toward where the face would appear.

Tendrils of smoke swirled and came together; broke apart and swirled again. An inarticulate exclamation escaped Dib as the smoke began collecting at the neck, then condensed into the curve of the cheek, the individual features and the unmistakable bangs, all of them exactly as he remembered. Dib knew that relinquishing his touch on the mirror would break the circle and cost him his hard-won achievement, and that he could never hug the hovering spirit; nevertheless, he barely caught himself from reaching out his arms. The tears blurring his eyes pulled the hazy apparition into crystal clear focus. Dib began crying, not for the first time that day, but finally, a smile was shining through the tears. "Mom?" He gasped. "Mom! Mom... "

The End.

Again, thanks for reading. The first draft of this written in the three days following my father's death last October.


	4. Epilogue

Sorry to anyone I left hanging!

That was supposed to be the end of the story; having Dib conduct a successful seance and seeing his mother once again was the happy ending I'd been building up to.

However, I have since been contemplating the kind of conversation that would have resulted... and think it's only fair to let you in on it.

All disclaimers still apply, namely, don''t expect any romance, DO NOT try this yourselves, and most important of all, I don''t own Invader Zim or any of these characters. Jhonen Vasquez does.

--

"Dib!" cried the ghost. "My little chattermonkey!"

It WAS her!

Dib's mother was as delighted to see him again as he was to see her. She asked him all the usual questions, how he was, and how skool was going, or rather, she tried to. Dib was a neverending fountain of questions about what it felt like to die and what it was like on the other side.

When his mother asked how Gaz was treating him these days, Dib finally got quiet. He just looked away because he knew how little she would enjoy hearing the answer.

And when she asked if he missed her, Dib choked up, looked down and nodded yes vigorously. She softly said, "I miss you too," before reminding him that they'd be together again someday, and finally urging him to enjoy life to the fullest in the meantime.

Then Dib's mother said it was time to go because tomorrow was a skool day and it must be his bedtime by now. She leaned over to kiss him goodbye and Dib felt a breath of cooling air brush across his hair scythe.

One is supposed to close a seance by bidding the ghost to go in peace, but because Dib hadn't had a chance to read that far, his mother was the one to say, "Go in peace."

As the final remnants of the smoke slowly dissolved, Dib released his hold on the mirrors. He would sleep well tonight!

Now THAT'S the end! :)

–


End file.
